


Stop the Presses

by kittypow13



Series: Breaking News [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypow13/pseuds/kittypow13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Peter falls for a minor super villain, and makes sure that the feeling is reciprocated.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Peter's side of the whole story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and kudos on the first part of the series, now for the promised sequel! I can't say when the next part will be out, but I'm a little more than halfway done with the story so far, which is a good sign~  
> There are only going to be about twelve or thirteen chapters, but they'll be significantly longer than in "Making Headlines."  
> Oh, and you're definitely going to want to read the first installment if you want to make sense of this story!  
> One quick note: This story has actual sex in it (Imagine that)! Some of it will be kinda dub-con ish, though, so be aware.

Peter was not in the fucking mood for all this cold. Sure, he usually ran hotter than a normal human, but seriously? It was bad enough that he didn't have a bed partner, he didn't need to wake up with ice in his veins.

He trudged into his kitchen, made himself a cup of coffee, and sat down in front of his TV. At least he didn't have anyone harassing him to have a healthy breakfast and eat at the table, but he still would have preferred another person to be around. He turned on the news and chuckled when a new story about the Wolfman popped up. Honestly, were the police trying to scare him? He was an internationally recognized super villain wanted for multiple murders and counts of armed robbery, they were going to have to try some bigger threats. Given all the shit he had seen in his lifetime, prison was not really the scariest thing out there.

His laptop pinged with a new notification. Some kind of news story, talking about the new blog of some tiny super villain? Peter rolled his eyes. When the fuck would these children learn that writing fucking blogs giving away all of their secrets was probably a bad idea, especially when they were literally wanted by the police? That was the problem with the younger generation, he supposed, it had to be all about them all the time.

And yet, he still opened the blog page. It would be interesting, certainly, to see what was going through this dude's head. He skimmed the page, trying to wade through the kid's mindless ramblings (and he had to be a kid, no adult Peter had ever met talked like a teenager high on speed like “Stiles” did). His eyebrows raised when he read his own name. Why the fuck was this random asshole talking about the Wolfman? Sure, Peter was famous, but didn't anyone have any common decency anymore? If Little Red wanted to blog about his life, Peter wasn't going to judge, but leave other fucking criminals out of it. Maybe it was some kind of cop thing? Maybe he was banking on the fact that Peter would come visit him to ask what the fuck was going on, only to literally walk into a room full of officers. Well, Peter wouldn't go for it. It was a small, insignificant amount of information, and it was complimentary anyway, so he would just let it go and move on with his day.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter did not, in fact, move on with his day. The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him that some random child thought it was okay to thoughtlessly muse about the Wolfman's private fucking information. Who did this kid think he was? Peter was a fucking super villain, not some two bit thief that stole candy from babies. He fucking killed people, for fuck's sake! He deserved respect, not to be gossiped about on some random hipster's blog page.

…. At the very least, he wanted the idiot to mention his death count.

It wasn't all that hard to find the kid's house. You could get any information at any time if you were willing to pay the right price to the right people, a fact that contributed to his growing annoyance with the cops that claimed they were doing everything they could to find him. Half of Peter expected to see some poor college kid trying his best to pay his way through classes, the other half honestly expected some teenage prankster just trying to get attention from his father, girlfriend, whatever. He waltzed right into the house, because apparently the kid had never heard of a security system (or for some reason thought that he was tougher than any crook trying to get into his living space), sat down on his couch, and starting playing games on his phone. What, like a serial killer couldn't enjoy a little Candy Crush?

His ears perked up a couple hours later when he heard the blogger stumble into his house. Peter rolled his eyes. If this "Stiles" could barely make it into his own house without waking the entire neighborhood with his fucking racket, who the fuck did he expect to successfully pull off multiple heists without getting caught? Peter leaned back, relaxed, and waited for Stiles to find him.

And holy shit was it worth it. The steps got closer, and in stumbled the twinkiest piece of ass Peter had ever seen in his entire life. Amber doe eyes widened to an impossible size and his plump lips dropped into a perfect cock-shaped hole while his body froze up in fear. The smell of his anxiety instantly permeated the air, and Peter licked his lips at the delectable scent. He wanted to bite those slutty lips, suck on his pale neck, make those eyes cry with a mix of pain and pleasure so confusing that the boy would permanently associate the two with each other.

That could wait, though. For now, he needed to convince the beautiful boy that it was worth it to let Peter into his life. He sat up a little straighter, puffed out his chest, and turned on what he called his “panty dropper” smile.

“Hello, Stiles,” he practically growled. The boy's eyes got even wider, confused as to how the complete stranger on his couch knew his name. Peter almost laughed. The boy ran a fucking blog with all of his personal information on it, and didn't expect people to know who he was?

“Um... h-hello,” the boy stuttered, “Do I... know you?”

“Well, not yet,” Peter grinned. “You may know me as The Wolfman?” Stiles' eyes doubled in size, and his cheeks went red. Well, at least he knew why Peter was here.

“Are you going to kill me now?” The boy's eyes started to water, and Peter just couldn't have that.

“No, sweetheart,” he watched as Stiles relaxed a little bit at the nickname, “I'm just here to make sure you don't spill any secrets about my life. After all, I wouldn't want the police to stop me based on what some random kid wrote in his online blog. Don't you think it would be prudent to check with people before you start discussing them online?”

“I-I guess,” Stiles said, walking jerkily towards the couch and taking a seat when Peter patted the cushion, “Sometimes my filter doesn't really work, and I feel like reading over my blogs and deleting stuff isn't a true representation of who I am, so....”

Peter could have laughed. He did let out a little chuckle, but he needed to convey that talking about him behind his back was unacceptable. He'd much rather talk in person, in his bed, on his lap... but that was for another time. For now, he wanted to prove that he was a trustworthy ally, maybe even a friend.

“I'm not mad, darling,” he started, “but I want to make sure that none of my information gets out. As long as I don't get taken into custody, we won't have a problem, sound good?” Stiles nodded hastily. “That's good. Now, I read your blog, is it true that you're having some problems figuring out what exactly your powers are supposed to do?”

Stiles nodded once again, and Peter grinned. Watching the boy's face light up when he talked about the possibility of mind control, he knew he had an in. Stiles' thirst for power would be what kept their relationship alive at first, but then?

Then Stiles would gladly give all of himself up for Peter.

 


	2. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well, I tried to give myself time to finish the story before I started posting again, which didn't work because I just started writing more and more. So I've got a good portion of this story done, but I'm still gonna say don't expect super on-time updates until I do finish this behemoth.  
> Sorry about this super long pause, too, I though I'd have time to get my shit together ^^"  
> Ok, so here's the deal: This is my first eeever time writing a sex scene, so... just be gentle?

The rest of January passed, and Peter was no less charmed by Stiles. It was adorable, how he had already communicated that he read Stiles' blog, and yet the boy still wrote as if he wasn't good enough to have repeat readers. Peter appreciated his insecurities. They would make it significantly easier to mold the child into what Peter wanted him to be.

That was the one problem that he saw with Stiles; he was, in fact, a child. Obviously he was attracted to Peter, that was more than stated in his blog, but what if he had an issue with age differences? What if his friends did, and convinced him to trade Peter in for a newer model? Peter would have to start small, and work up in loyalty until the boy would literally die for him. After all, age begets wisdom, and having a daddy kink was definitely not uncommon in this day and age.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

February was a romantic month. Peter knew this (how could he not, with all the red and pink paper hearts that were shoved in his face for the entirety of the month), and he also knew that he would get major brownie points with Stiles if he did something romantic. Though he had planned to wait longer, asking Stiles on a first date so close to Valentine's Day might work out in his favor. After all, lonely people get desperate on romantic holidays (not that anyone had to be desperate to go out with Peter. He thought that he was very good looking, thank you very much).

He purposefully refused to contact Stiles, no matter how much the boy wrote in his blog that he wanted him to. The smaller male could grow tired of him if they spent too much time together, so Peter had to approach the issue logically. It was almost like completing a puzzle: if there's a date this week, you must wait to contact him, but if it's just a conversation you can have two per week, how many dates can you have without more than two weeks of space? It made Peter's head hurt, but if he could get the delectable villain in his bed then he supposed it was all worth it.

When he finally approached Stiles again, ready to ask him out, he told the boy he was out of town. He smiled when the teen didn't bother to question him; his blind trust might be his undoing over the course of their relationship. Oh yes, Peter liked that word. Although, relationship was good, but maybe there was something better, more binding? He'd figure it out later.

The way Stiles beamed when Peter walked into his house for the second time lit up the whole room. It seemed that the boy didn't care why he was there or how he got in, he was only interested in the fact that Peter wanted to see him, to spend time with him.

“H-hey,” he stuttered. A small burst of fear still shot through the room, and Peter drank it up greedily. “How are you doing? You didn't show up for a while, and I didn't have any way to contact you, so I thought-”

“What are you doing on Valentine's Day?” Peter interrupted him.

“Nothing? Why do you ask,” he looked hopeful, and a small part of Peter wanted to crush it under his heel just to see him cry, but he could save that for later.

“Well, how would you like to go on a date with me?” His eyes widened, so Peter continued, “I find myself very attracted to you, and I would like to get to know you better.”

“Y-y-yes! I'd love to!” He tripped over himself to get the words out. Peter preened, but kept his cool. “What are we going to do?”

“That's a secret,” Peter winked at him, “I'll pick you up at seven. Be ready on time, I won't be afraid to leave without you.” With that, Peter turned to walk away. 'Always leave them wanting more,' he thought to himself, and he smirked as he heard Stiles sigh happily behind him.

He was going to destroy the boy.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The date was a huge success, just like Peter knew it would be. He could play the boy like a fiddle, and he was more than willing to. With any luck, the kid would be completely dependent on him by the end of May.

He knew that Stiles loved learning. It was easy to tell when he could ramble on about random facts for hours on end. Peter decided to take him to a museum, impress him with some basic facts about the various artifacts, and then give him a surprise right before they left.

It was surprisingly easy to get the camera into the sarcophagus. Honestly, it seemed like there wasn't any security in the entire fucking museum. All the better for Peter, though, he didn't want to have to kill anyone right before his big date. The camera was important; it meant that Peter could keep an eye on Stiles. Watch out for the boy, make sure he didn't get into any trouble, keep any unwanted... pests out of the boy's life. Peter stopped himself before he started growling. If the kid thought he was gonna move on with some other man, he had another thing coming to him.

Peter picked Stiles up in his Camaro, a car that he knew attracted about half of his hookups. If the way the kid looked at the vehicle was any indication, Stiles wouldn't be any different. He drove them to the museum and watched the little nerd's eyes light up. They walked inside, holding hands, and Peter smelled multiple bursts of happiness and nerves.

Peter knew he had to tread lightly, but the kid smelled SO GOOD. He pulled him over to a darker corner, out of the line of sight of any rent- a -cops, and pulled him close. Stiles tilted his head up and whimpered a little, eyes jumping back and forth between Peter's eyes and his lips. Peter smirked and leaned in, tilting his head and pressing Stiles' lips to his own.

Fireworks. Peter almost made a noise of pure pleasuring, only just stopping himself. He grabbed Stiles harder, opened his mouth, and really began to kiss. He could tell that the poor kid was out of breath, but in that moment he didn't care. He was too busy kissing, nipping at the boy's lips and thrusting his tongue down his throat. When he finally released Stiles to get some air, his entire face was bright red. He went back in to destroy him more, but Stiles stopped him with a hand.

“Maybe we should... keep looking?” He breathed, not meeting Peter's eyes. The older man had to stop his growl. Soon, Stiles would know not to stop him when he wanted something. For now, though, he could ease him into their relationship.

The pair continued walking, continuing to hold hands and look at various exhibits. They arrived at the sarcophagus, and Peter chuckled as Stiles looked up in awe.

“Do you want it?” He asked the boy. Stiles laughed, thinking it a joke, before sobering up when he realized that Peter was serious.

“I'll thank you kindly not to laugh at me. Now, do you want it, or no? You certainly look like you do.”

Stiles looked around hurriedly, and Peter frankly cannot believe that this kid steals shit for a living.

“But... Peter... how in the world would we even get it out of here? That thing's got to be at least a thousand pounds, and-”

Peter smirked and lifted the entire coffin effortlessly. “We should probably get out of here before someone tries to stop us,” he said. Stiles hurried after him, still glancing around periodically. His eyes widened when they saw the two security guards guarding the door and glaring at them.

Peter looked at the guards, then at Stiles, wondering. “Stiles,” he said, waiting for the twink to look at him, “use your powers, sweetheart.” And Stiles did.

Peter smirked once again as the pair waltzed off into the night, past the guards holding the doors open. Perhaps the boy would be helpful to him after all. They put the sarcophagus in the back of his car. If he had tried harder, they might have been able to fit it all the way in, but as it was he managed to convince Stiles that he would have to sit in his lap on the way home. After all, he had gone through that entire date with barely any action, he deserved to feel that tight ass. He told Stiles to wait in the car and slunk back into the museum. Sure, the guards probably wouldn't remember the pair, but why take the chance? Peter didn't get this far by leaving people alive.

The ride home was heaven, but what came next was even better. He cooked dinner for Stiles, which apparently was akin to writing a romance song and publicly declaring his love to the boy. He started to smell arousal wafting off of the boy, and after a couple glasses of wine the little slut was “emotionally ready” to sleep with the murderer he had just gone on a first date with.

The pair rushed upstairs. Stiles began to strip before Peter even entered the room, removing his shirt and pants. Peter pushed him onto the bed, kissing his neck as he pushed his underwear down. Stiles moaned and writhed, starting to pull off Peter's shirt before he gave up and gave in to the pleasure. Peter laid on top of him, hiked a knee in between his legs for him to grind on, and went to work marking his neck. With God as his witness, the entire world was going to recognize Stiles as his.

When Peter was satisfied with the bruises he left on Stiles' milky skin, he flipped the boy over. Pushing him onto his knees, he buried his face in the younger man's ass. Stiles moaned desperately, bucking into Peter's face until the alpha male smacked his ass hard.

“You don't set the fucking pace,” he snarled, “You shut the fuck up and let daddy take care of you.” Stiles moaned desperately and Peter knew that he was going to keep this boy. He licked around the kid's hole until his whines went up an octave, then finally stuck his tongue in. Stiles screamed as he thrusted, and Peter was delighted at the dirty noises he could wrench from him. He backed off, reaching into his side table and grabbing a bottle of lube. Pouring some on his fingers, he immediately thrust two in, not waiting for it to warm up. Stiles screeched, then moaned as Peter immediately found his sweet spot.

“Yeah, you like that?” Peter cooed, “You like my thick fingers in your slutty hole? Yeah, you're gonna like this cock even more.”

Stiles sobbed and nodded his head, beyond words. Peter wasn't going to take that as an answer, though. No, his boy would have to learn how to speak, or he wouldn't get what he wanted.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” He targeted Stiles' prostate viciously. “I don't speak whore, you're going to have to tell daddy what you want in people words.”

“D-daddy!” Stiles cried, once again trying to thrust back on Peter's fingers. “Please.... please, I need it!”

“Need what, sweetheart?” Peter asked, “And where? In your slutty mouth, in your horny pussy...?”

“Your cockkkkk,” Stiles drooled onto his pillow, “I need your cock in my pussy, please daddy, please! I need it now, I'm going crazy!”

Peter gently shushed his boy, finally lining his dick up. “It's okay baby, I know what you need.” He slammed his cock into the boy's hole, and started jackrabbiting into him, not giving him any time to adjust. Stiles screamed, perhaps not entirely in pleasure, but he would have to learn how to take a dick. After all, Peter wasn't going to go slow with him forever.

“I'm going to come, sweetheart, and if you're not done by then you won't be finishing tonight,” he warned, thrusts finally slowing down. Stiles reached for his dick, moaning when his hand was smacked away.

“Oooh no,” Peter growled, “None of that. You'll come on my dick like a grateful bitch, or you'll have a nasty case of blue balls.”

Stiles tried his best, but couldn't come simply from the stimulation in his ass. Peter's thrusts slowed until he came, filling Stiles to the brim with warm seed. He rolled over, pulling Stiles' back to his chest and closing his eyes, trying to calm his breathing.

“Maybe next time, you'll be able to listen to me, and then you'll be allowed to cum,” He whispered to the boy before he fell asleep. As he drifted off, he wondered whether or not it was the boy's first time.

 


	3. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Alright, new laptop, I'll be able to put out new chapters faster and then I can start working on the two pages worth of new fic ideas I have!!!  
> Also me: Holy shit it has been a month since I posted

March started off on a terrible note. Peter supposed that it was his fault. After all, how was the boy supposed to know that he belonged to the alpha male if Peter had never expressly told him that? It wouldn't stop him from punishing Stiles, of course, but he would go slightly easier on him.

Maybe.

Probably not.

He had started following Stiles around, making sure that he was safe and around good company, so he was right there when Stiles' friends decided they wanted to go to a club. Peter saw when when his delectable boy wore such a slutty, skimpy outfit to go out, but he rationalized that as long as no one made a move on what was his, he'd be fine. He walked into the club, quickly found the group, and sat down on the opposite side of the bar. This way, he could keep an eye on the bar, the dance floor, and have a couple of drinks while he was at it. He watched Stiles' friends drink and fuck around with each other, contented, before everything changed.

Peter watched Stiles dancing on the floor, and tried to calm his breathing. Sure, his boy looked like a slut, and sure he was dancing like a stripper that needed to pay rent the next day, but that didn't mean anything, right? The boy had to know that he belonged to Peter, especially after last night.

Apparently he didn't though, because less than five minutes later he was grinding up on some other big, strong male. He grinded his twink ass onto the man's cock and flashed his Bambi eyes up at him periodically, and the muscle- headed idiot was eating it up. Peter, on the other hand, saw red. This was unacceptable. Stiles needed to learn that no one else would ever be able to complete him, and Peter was looking forward to teaching him.

Peter's number one skill was his ability to be quick and quiet, and he used it to sneak up behind Stiles' partner. He grabbed HIS twink and pulled him outside. Peter knew that he should moderate his strength (in the interest of keeping Stiles safe and unharmed), but his anger was too great. He stormed outside to an alley next to the bar and threw Stiles against a wall.

“Hello again, Stiles.”

“Peter, what the fuck? What are you doing?” Stiles smelled scared, but it was far weaker than the scent of anger. Apparently, he didn't like the fact that he belonged to Peter.

“Well, funny story,” Peter started, “I thought 'hey, maybe I'll go to a club today, have a good time,' and what do I find when I get there? The man that I thought understood that he was mine grinding up on some random stranger like a two dollar whore.”

“Peter,” he tried to vouch for himself, “That's not-”

“Tell me, Stiles. Do you often act like a slut? I knew that you were more than willing to sleep with me on a first date, but are you just that slutty for everyone? Are you an actual hooker, or do you just give your ass up for free?”

Peter was delighted as Stiles' eyes began to water. The more the kid cried, the less likely it was that Peter would ever have to correct another one of his mistakes.

“I-I'm sorry,” Stiles sobbed, “It won't happen again, I promise! I didn't know that we were together but that was wrong of me, obviously we are, don't be mad!”

Peter was about to continue yelling when the bar door opened once again. The man Stiles had been grinding on stumbled out, obviously drunk and angrier than he had a right to be.

“OI!” He shouted, stumbling and using the wall to hold him up. “What th- what the fuck are you doin'? Leave h-him alone!” Peter smiled widely. Maybe he wouldn't have to threaten Stiles as all, maybe he'd be able to make his point some other way.

The drunk man began to speak again, possibly to demand an answer to his previous question, but Peter didn't even give him the chance. Claws shot out of his fingertips, and he could feel his fangs drop. Hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to a full shift to kill this douchebag, he didn't want to frighten Stiles TOO much.

The drunk asshole wasn't even capable enough to realize when he was facing down a predator. He sloppily raised a fist, jerking his torso like he was going to throw a punch at Peter. The werewolf had sliced through his throat before he had even formed a fist. Stiles screamed, pushing himself back against the wall as Peter reveled in the warm spray of blood across his face. He was upset that he wouldn't be able to bask in his kill, but right now he needed to take care of Stiles.

Peter backed Stiles into the wall, creating a human wall between the teen and the body. He wiped Stiles' tears away with a thumb, cooing softly at the boy.

“Hey, hey sweetheart,” he whispered, “You understand why I had to do that, right? It's for your own good. He was going to take advantage of you, and I couldn't let that happen, could I?”  
Stiles shook his head a little, then stopped, “Peter... you killed him! You kill people! Oh god, oh god, I thought I could do this, but maybe...”

Peter didn't let him finish the thought. “Stiles,” he demanded, “Killing is what I do. I've always done it, I always will do it, and you need to learn how to deal with that. It's not really that big a deal, is it? I don't really think it's fair for you to refuse to support me. You want to be a good boyfriend, don't you?” Stiles nodded. “Good, that's a good boy. You just go home and think about what you want from our relationship, and I'll be in contact with you, sound good?” He turned Stiles around and gave him a little push. The boy started moving jerkily, heading away from the bar and towards his house.

Peter was going to have to do a lot of cleaning up.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter hadn't seen Stiles in around a week, and he was starting to get very restless. He had to teach the boy a lesson in order to ensure he'd behave in the future, but it was so damn hard to be away from him all the time. If he didn't have twenty- four hour surveillance on the boy, he might have had to give up on teaching him, but as it was he could last a few more days before he showed up and forgave him. He watched the boy hang out with his friends, and work on his college classes.

That was a problem. Peter liked that Stiles was happy, and obviously he wanted to boy to be clever, but it just wouldn't do to have something that could take his focus off of Peter. Sure, education was important and all that bullshit, but would Stiles ever really need it? He'd never be getting a job, that would make it too easy for him to find someone other than Peter, so school was pretty unnecessary. He'd have to take care of it for later, but he knew that he'd have to ease Stiles into their relationship.

Stiles made him feel out of control, and he hated it. Every time someone even glanced at the boy he had to physically stop himself from ripping them apart. Peter was used to being in full control of his emotions. He could watch someone die in front of him without batting a fucking eye, but Stiles pulled emotions out of him that he had never felt before.

Rage. Jealousy. The need to dedicate every single inch of his soul to another creature.

He spent his time thinking about what he would do to Stiles when they finally made up. He'd take him on dates, certainly. He'd bring flowers, cook meals, take him on picnics and drive him to the beach and make him feel so absolutely and utterly loved that he never wanted to leave from the warm circle of Peter's arms. Imagining Stiles, clad only in a swim suit and dripping moisture as he lays out in the sun immediately made Peter's mind go towards... less appropriate places. Peter had to stifle a moan as he imagined Stiles' lanky body, milky skin flushing pink as he writhed and begged for Peter to keep touching him. God, he was so beautiful. Peter thought that he had never seen anything more lovely in all his years of life.

That decided it, then. If Peter was going to get to see Stiles any time soon, he was going to have to contact him first. Who knew, Peter's sudden appearance back in his life might leave Stiles more than willing to make Peter's fantasies come true.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter flipped through the newspaper and couldn't help but chuckle. The reporter undoubtedly hated him, and it cracked him up that they thought a world famous super villain would give a shit. He didn't get to where he was crying whenever someone had a bad opinion of him. It was obvious that it bothered Stiles, reading made-up stories about how bad they were for each other, so he might end up having to do something about that.

He was right; after he waltzed back into Stiles' life the boy was thrilled to see him. It was a hell of a coincidence that he found someone as willing to be manipulated as Stiles was. The kid may not know it, but normal people didn't form attachments as quickly as Peter did. Stiles was more than willing to do whatever the older man asked of him, without even questioning if it was something he wanted to do in the first place. Peter almost felt bad for taking advantage, before he remembered how good the sex was.

That was another thing, after their second date (where Stiles got way too into a game of laser tag) the sex got even better. Peter wasn't too sure that Stiles came at the end, but his ass was ridiculously tight and satisfying. The kid was finally getting the hang of the dirty talk, and after a while Peter didn't even have to prompt him to start with the daddy kink. All in all, his life was pretty great. If he hadn't been completely hooked on Stiles before, he sure as hell was now.

Because he was completely hooked on the smaller male, Peter realized that he'd have to come clean about his powers. He wasn't too worried about the boy leaving, he was more than fast enough to catch him and lock him up somewhere, but he really didn't want Stiles to be afraid of him. They could have a fantastic relationship, as long as Stiles actually took part in it. He didn't even need to worry about it.

The kid thought that his wolf was the “coolest thing ever.” The beautiful, beautiful boy looked right into the eyeballs of the deadliest thing he had ever come across, smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. He started asking more and more questions about werewolves, which powers he had, how similar weres were to actual wolves, and Peter had an idea.

Technically, werewolves don't have mates. Mates are simply for mindless animals, human beings have enough brain power to choose the people they get into a relationship. The thing about that fact, though, is that Stiles didn't know it. Stiles immediately believed Peter when he said that weres had mates, that the bond between said mates was the most powerful thing in the universe, and that he and Stiles made the perfect pair.

No, they weren't technically mates, but they were close enough. And Peter was never going to let Stiles leave to go get in some other relationship, so really it was kind of like they were bonded for life. Peter started to feel bad, but anything that assured Stiles would love him for as long as he would love Stiles was worth it. The twink took the news in stride, agreed to move in with Peter, and also promised that they could start working jobs together. Peter had never been happier in his life, he felt more complete than ever with the beautiful man at his side.

He would do literally anything to make Stiles love him.

 


	4. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back (back, back)  
> Back again (gain, gain)  
> (It's me)

Realistically, Peter didn't actually need to censor Stiles' blog posts. It wasn't like the kid was brain dead, he knew the difference between what was safe and what was unsafe to post. No, Peter just needed Stiles' undivided, irrevocable trust. He also needed to know what Stiles was doing all day every day, and easing him in using his blog posts was a good way to start.

It was adorable, though, to read what the kid wrote about him. Stiles was usually too embarrassed to stay in the room while Peter read, and it made sense. The kid would write a goddamn novel about him if Peter asked him to. He seemed to majorly gloss over the sex, though, which Peter found hilarious. To him, it was one of the best parts of their relationship.

Peter was very proud of himself for killing the reporter. He'd never had a problem killing before, obviously, but this was the first time he has committed murder for the purpose of making someone else happy. Stiles was upset that people thought he killed the sniveling woman, but Peter could smell that he was happy she wouldn't be harassing him anymore.

Apparently they had replaced her with an equally snarky journalist, though, so maybe Peter's job wasn't totally done. This one seemed to be personally offended that the first one died, and they might prove to be a bigger nuisance in the future.

It's not like Peter ever needed an actual excuse to kill, though.

He rolled his eyes as he read the speculation about his “abusive relationship.” It was funny how people could walk into a random situation that they weren't actually a part of and pass judgment like they had been there for years. Sure, he sometimes manipulated Stiles, but it wasn't like he was keeping the kid locked up in his basement. For all Stiles knew, he could just walk out of the relationship at any time. He couldn't, of course, but Peter had never outwardly expressed that.

Stiles skipped into the apartment, and Peter looked up and smiled. The bubbly male took a seat in his lap, smiling at the older.

“Heyyy baby, whatcha reading?” He inquired. Peter wrapped his arms around the younger's waist.

“Just the news. What do you need?” He replied.

“I wanna go do my blog, come with?”

“I'd love to, though I expect something to make it worth my while later.”

“You betcha, daddy.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter had been planning for Stiles' birthday for a long time. He'd known when it was since he'd started stalking him, for lack of a better word, and he knew that nothing would make Stiles happier than throwing some giant party for him. The boy liked to pretend that he didn't give a shit, but Peter could see the longing every time they passed the themed party goods in the store.

As much as he wanted to have Stiles all to himself, he knew that his friends were going to want to take part in the festivities. Being the fantastic boyfriend that he was, he set up an entire day full of food, friends, and surprises, leaving plenty of time at the end for any thanks Stiles was willing to give him.

As much as it scared him, he started off the party by allowing Stiles to drive his baby. Plugged some restaurant's location into the GPS, sat back in the passenger seat, and clung tightly to his chair as the teen did his very best to drive. Peter made a mental note to do some lessons with him after the third near- death experience. The arrived safely (barely), and Peter staggered out of the car, gasping for breath. Stiles damn near skipped out and into the restaurant, the bastard.

The kid was endlessly thankful for the meal, which was quite common for him. Peter could appreciate good food like any other human being, but he sometimes felt like an order of curly fries could give Stiles a better orgasm than he could. His friends had been waiting for him at what they told Peter was “their table,” and the squealing from the blond girl as she hugged both of them almost made his ears bleed. He couldn't stand people, probably the main reason behind his total count of zero friends.

Once they finally sat down and began to eat, silence finally took over the table. Peter could feel eyes on him occasionally, presumeably because of the age difference, but he kept his eyes alternating between his food and Stiles. He wasn't looking to make any new friends, so he remained quiet no matter how many times they tried to drag him into their inane conversations. Stiles consumed more and more alcohol (the exciteable blond girl kept goading him into it), and Peter rolled his eyes at how sloppy the boy could get when drunk.

He was kind of excited for that night, though. The more drunk Stiles was, the more willing he was to do the freakier shit that Peter was into. He knew that technically he couldn't consent, but who cared if the kid couldn't even remember it in the morning? Peter was convinced that the closeness helped their relationship, anyway.

This did mean that Peter would take over driving for the rest of the night, though, a fact that he wasn't exactly upset about. Everyone went their separate ways, all splitting the tab so that Stiles wouldn't have to pay for his own birthday dinner. Peter poured the younger boy into the passenger seat, shut the door, and drove off to their house. A small thrill went through him when he called things “theirs.” Their house, their bedroom, their kitchen, their TV.... It was basically heaven for someone as possessive as Peter.

He sat Stiles down at their kitchen table, watching as the boy slumped down and put his head on the cold surface. Peter smiled, but left to get the cake regardless. His boy would have to stay awake just a little bit longer, Peter sure as hell wasn't going to let the ice cream cake go to waste. Making the damn thing had been five straight hours of hell, and he was left with no less than three failed attempts slowly melting in the garbage can.

Stiles loved the cake, just like Peter knew that he would, and managed to eat an entire piece before he face- planted into the rest of it. If he wasn't so darn cute, Peter might try and get him into rehab... the kid could drink a startling amount for someone his size. The alpha male decided that he'd clean up later, and after putting the cake back into the freezer (they were going to eat this entire damned thing with all of the work he put into it) he carried Stiles upstairs. The boy smiled sleepily at him, trying to pull his shirt of and slurring dirty words.

“H.... heyyyyy daddyyyyy,” he mumbled. Peter sighed. There was no way he was going to get Stiles to stay awake. Maybe if he was quick, they'd be able to do something fun before Stiles conked out. Peter ran into the bathroom, washing his hands and pulling his shirt off. By the time he made it back to the bed, though, Stiles was fast asleep and snoring softly.

Peter sighed, eyes softening. His boy looked prettiest relaxed in sleep, and what kind of person would he be if he interrupted that? He slid out of his pants and simply laid next to the boy, pulling his into his chest and wrinkling his nose at the sharp scent of alcohol. He smiled as the boy unconsciously snuggled into his chest, hugging him tighter before eventually following him into sleep.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter felt a little bad for lying to Stiles about being mates, but it didn't stop him from going through with an official mating ceremony. It certainly wouldn't do anything bad to the kid, just make him think that the two were bound unconditionally for the rest of their lives, so what was the harm in it? He did have to fill Stiles up with quite a bit of misinformation, though.

Firstly, the kid thought that humans could be turned into werewolves with a bite? He'd probably watched too many horror movies, they tended to get all kinds of shit wrong. Peter didn't try and explain how weres worked, though, he just tried to turn the boy off by talking about how traumatic the experience could be. To his credit, getting bitten by anything was fairly traumatic. He also might have listed a whole heap of powers that the two would get once they became mates, not one of which would actually happen. Peter would know Stiles' emotions (only because he could smell them), and because of his twenty- four seven surveillance he'd always know when the kid was in trouble, but Stiles wouldn't ever know the same for him. At this point, he was mostly relying on the placebo effect.

He knew that he was going to have to go all the way if he was going to fake this, though. He was actually pretty proud of himself for constructing an entire magic-y ceremony with fake props, procedures, and powers. He convinced Stiles that the spell worked, even though it gave no indication of anything actually happening. Realistically, there was no indication that magic was a thing at all, but then again he could turn into a goddamn wolf at will, so who the fuck knew?

Admittedly, all of the power from Stiles following his every move went to Peter's head a little, and he started to think about other things he could add into the “ritual” that would benefit him. After all, was it so unbelievable that he'd need to bite Stiles in order to establish his claim? And he'd let the kid bite him back, too, even if it wouldn't actually stay on him like he told the boy. He wasn't really sure how he'd explain that later, but hopefully the boy would be so obsessed with him that it wouldn't matter.

Peter also was willing to use this as an excuse to get the dirty, rough, nasty sex that he wanted. If Stiles had objected earlier, he sure as hell wasn't going to jeopardize their status as mates. Peter would try and be gentle... he didn't want to hurt the boy TOO badly, just enough for him to feel it later. Admittedly, something deep within Peter was only satisfied when his boy was limping and feeling the sex days after it was over.

He was exceedingly glad when the boy didn't ask for any friends to be present during the ceremony. He was fooling Stiles, sure, but he wasn't too sure that he'd be able to convince someone that wasn't in love with him to do this shit. He was definitely an exhibitionist, make no mistake, but staying away from people that he actually knew was probably the best option. He would kill anyone that tried to take Stiles away, after all, and that would possibly make the boy resent him just a little bit.

Because of all of his preparations, the ceremony went swimmingly. Stiles flinched a little (or a lot) when Peter bit him, but was smiling when he returned the favor on Peter's collarbone. His grin grew to match Peter's when the older man grabbed his thigh and lifted him to sit on his waist. He kissed the smaller male, becoming more and more vicious as time went on. The repeated bites to his lips made Stiles bleed a little, but the smell of metal only made Peter bite harder.

The older man dropped to his knees, placing Stiles on the ground before yanking him over on his hands and knees. He ripped his pants and underwear off, undoing his own fly. Luckily, he had told the boy to “prepare himself” beforehand, so when he was ready he pushed into a stretched, wet hole. That's not to say that Stiles was loose, though, quite the opposite. The boy was tight and hot every time Peter took him, and this ceremony was no exception.

The boy could certainly moan like a porn star when he wanted to. Peter was having a good time, make no mistake, but Stiles sounded like this was the first time he'd ever taken a pounding. Peter chuckled. Though it was certainly loud, the moaning definitely prompted him to move faster.

“Yeah, does that feel good sweetheart?” He questioned. “You like it when my thick cock fucking destroys your pretty pussy?” He laughed when Stiles sobbed at a particulary cruel thrust. “Not too sure how easy that'll be, though, when you give up your saggy cunt to anyone that asks. Can you even feel me right now?”

Stiles made an offended sound at the question, but Peter could see (make that smell) right through it. He could tell that the boy was exactly as turned on at getting called a two bit whore as Peter was calling him one.

“Oh, you don't like that, do you? Don't like that I know exactly how used this nasty hole is? That's too bad, though, because I know about every cock that's been here.” Stiles shook his head, more and more tears falling as Peter kept talking. “Yeah, how about you just shut up and take this? We both know that I'm not having sex with you because I like your intelligent conversation skills, so just keep your slutty mouth closed and squeeze your hole around my dick.”

Peter didn't think he'd ever talked this dirty in his life, but Stiles obviously loved it if his sudden orgasm was anything to go by. Peter roared as the tight hole practically milked the orgasm out of his dick, claws scratching into the younger male as he gave a few final thrusts.

Finally, after a couple minutes of orgasm and a couple more of cooldown, he removed himself from the boy and flopped down next to him. He pulled Stiles into him, forcing him to spoon as his pale “mate” calmed down from what looked to be a sudden drop into subspace. Peter really hoped it was, if he could get the boy into a dom/sub relationship, he'd be able to make the kid do practically do anything. He'd have to give him a safe word, though, which would put a damper on his constant need to be in control. He'd have to think about his many options....

He and Stiles were both asleep before he could even finish his thought.


	5. May

 

A one million dollar heist should never have been part of the plan. Peter had been a villain for fucking YEARS, damn it, he knew better! He knew that once people started getting greedy (or, at least, more greedy than any villain already was), they started getting lazy and full of themselves, and practically gave the cops a hand- drawn map to their location. Peter knew better. He certainly didn't want to get caught, and he refused to let Stiles get taken away from him.

God damn if the kid didn't have the prettiest puppy eyes, though.

Peter was actually fairly scared about the fact that he couldn't say no when Stiles really wanted something. Did that mean that the kid had something over him? Was he forever doomed to give everything up for his boyfriend, right up until they got taken into custody by the police? He wanted to assure himself that it would never happen, but unless he got his shit together it was a very real possibility.

It was just so hard, with Stiles' beautiful, pale, spotted skin sitting right next to him, and his whiskey colored eyes boring straight into Peter's soul, to look him in the face and say “no, Stiles, we in fact can NOT take home one million dollars.” Stiles would have been crushed, would have accepted and walked away, Peter would have smelled the bitter smell of disappointment mixed with sadness and unshed tears, and his normally perky lover would have slumped out of the car and into the house, lying down on the bed and facing the wall to fall asleep alone.

Peter really didn't want to deal with that, all right? He wanted to sex his little twink up when they got home, and go on more jobs with him, so he let the kid have his famed “million dollar” heist. He tried telling Stiles that it wasn't all that much money anyways (especially not in this economy), but the kid was fucking set on it.

So he marched his furry ass into the bank, stole a fucking outrageous and noteworthy amount of money, and only got to kill one person on the way out. It was only in self defense, and Stiles wouldn't even let him get gory with it, so it was a pretty shitty day for Peter.

Possibly the worst part was that, when they got home, Stiles claimed that he was “too tired” for sex and fell asleep no more than five minutes after he snuggled up to Peter in bed.

Fucking million dollar heist.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If Peter had to pick one thing that Stiles was absolutely, incorrigably, inexcuseably horrible at? It was following fucking directions. Every time he gave the boy even the simplest order (Don't touch that, be careful, lower your goddamned voice, etc.) he could expect nothing but an immediate refusal. It was honestly a little scary, given that one wrong move could put him and Stiles in a hell of a situation during a heist.

Because of all of this, though, Peter was less than surprised when he came home one afternoon to find out that Stiles had opened the sarcophagus and found his camera. He rolled his eyes as the boy chattered on and on about where it could have come from. He found it more than a little odd that the boy had made it this far stealing from banks, he seemed like he'd give up every single secret he had after two minutes with an officer of the law. In the months that they'd been together, Peter was willing to bet that the kid hadn't shut his mouth once. He even talked in his sleep, of course, because why should Peter have even a spare moment of peace?

He loved the kid, but Stiles could go on and on and fucking on about “oh, isn't it so weird Peter, you'd think that this museum be able to take their artifact back if it's their camera, and technically it could be someone else's but don't you think the officials would have noticed someone put it in, although I guess they didn't notice that we took it and that's kind of a bigger problem although even if it is some random person's they'd still be able to see us because it'd have to be wireless isn't technology wonderful can we get a wireless camera?”

Okay, maybe Peter was a little bit grumpy, but the boy was like a squirrel on speed. He supposed that this was his own fault, if he hadn't put said camera in Stiles wouldn't be firing off questions at him. He had this need to watch over the boy, though, and knowing that he was safe made Peter feel exponentially better. Not that he was going to admit any of this to Stiles. Sure, the twink was fairly devoted to him, but he didn't want this stalking thing to be the straw that broke the camel's back. He had worked too damn long and too damn hard for one little incident of watching Stiles to ruin their entire relationship.

Honestly, he'd more than likely find a way to get the boy back and probably even punish him for leaving in the first place, but he really didn't want to deal with all of the hassle.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter knew that Stiles would be powerful, but how was he to know that the kid would be able to freaking control people against their will? The short answer is that he wasn't, which is why he was so freaking surprised when Stiles successfully made a grown- ass man dance around like a marionette.

He had taken the hyper boy on another outing into the woods (thank god he was such a cheap date, otherwise Peter would more than likely be bankrupt with all of the time they spent together), and sure he gave him another guy to play with, but it wasn't supposed to be anything more than Stiles putting some suggestions into his head or some shit. Instead, Stiles makes the man do GYMNASTICS, of all the fucking things. Hey, Peter could understand wanting to have a little fun. It was hard to see nothing but death sometimes, he definitely understood that, but would it kill the kid to fucking take something seriously for once? At this rate, Peter was going to have to do all of the heavy lifting when they did robberies together, and NO WAY was Stiles getting a cut if he didn't put in his share of the work (That was definitely a lie though, Peter would die a thousand times before he let his love starve. He might take away a few teensy tiny privileges if the boy didn't try, however).

Still, though, he was a little impressed at how unknowingly powerful Stiles seemed to be. It was a little scary, knowing that such an impressionable young boy had the power to control someone's every move with just a thought, but Peter was completely confident that he had the kid in the palm of his hand. If he said jump, Stiles said how high. If he told Stiles to make someone else jump, though, he wondered how high the boy would make them go.

If this session was anything to go by, Stiles would sure as hell deliver. Near the very end of the session, Stiles “accidentally” let go of his influence over the body (if Peter maybe might have distracted him with the very hope if it happening, who would even know?). Of course, because the man had been aware of everything while it was happening, and most likely had several torn muscles, a pulled groin, and maybe even a few broken bones, he was quite upset with the little villain. He went to punch Stiles, and of course as his “mate” Peter couldn't let that happen.

He grinned as he ripped the man's head off.

Stiles was, of course, sad about what happened. He was always sad when someone died, his sweet empathetic brat, but Peter didn't really give a shit. The kid would have to get used to it. Looking at the way he was justifying shit all over his blog, it looked like he was already on his way. He probably should have been concerned that he was possibly ruining the kid's mind and turning him into a mini- psychopath, but at the moment all he wanted to do was shower, ravage his lover, and then sleep for maybe three days.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The minute Stiles came home after taking his first midterm, he demanded that Peter take him shopping.

“But Peterrrrrrr,” the little beauty whined, “I need new stuff! And we have more than enough money... plus my tests were super stressfullll.”

Peter looked into Stiles' eyes, unmoved. Inside, he was weighing the merits of shopping versus making his mate stay home. Shopping pros: Better sex, listening to slightly less whining, maybe getting a mocha? Home pros: Getting to watch a few episodes of Bridalplasty, longer sex, having Stiles make him a snack...

“Fine,” he sighed, refusing to look into the excited man's eyes. He didn't give because of the kid, goddamnit, he just really liked the way they made their mochas at the mall. He meandered out after the boy, rolling his eyes when he jumped into the car.

Waiting in FIFTY THOUSAND STORES while his boyfriend tried EVERY SINGLE ARTICLE OF CLOTHING IN THE WORLD was literal hell. Listening to “Peter, do I look fat in this?”, “Peter, is this my color?”, “Peter, will you wear matching shirts with me?” made him wish he didn't heal like a god so that he could blow his fucking brains out. After, though... that's when he got his reward.

Except no, he didn't. After approximately fifty years of clothes shopping, Stiles decided that he wanted to go into some tiny, nerdy looking board game store, spend over two hundred dollars, and drag Peter back to their house to play a horror version of Dungeons and Dragons for an hour and half. Of course he loved the kid, he was willing to dedicate his whole life to the twink after all, but was it a crime to want to make love to your soul mate? After Peter won (by a huge margin, because even if he wasn't the one that wanted to play he was still going to dominate), they played Cards Against Humanity, Monopoly, and some weird Canadian game involving finding songs that fit certain criteria and playing them on a phone. If Peter was smiling and laughing by the end of it, it was only because he enjoyed beating Stiles so badly.

Finally, FINALLY, over six hours after they set out on the dreaded shopping trip, Stiles looked up from his cards and smiled shyly at Peter.

“Hey babe?” He whispered, causing Peter to look up from his hand and smirk. “We've been playing this for a while, maybe there's something else we could be doing...”

Peter was determined to make his small lover actually say what he wanted to do. Total honesty, he was getting pretty tired of being the only vocal one during sex. Dirty talk was his kink too, goddamnit, and he'd like to not have to work so fucking hard for it all the time. He thought maybe the silent treatment would get his point across, so he didn't say anything.

Stiles frowned a little, “I mean... we don't have to....” Peter cocked an eyebrow, internally realizing how mean he was being and not caring. Stiles recognized his eyebrow as being playful, and instantly knew what his mate wanted.

“Daddy, will you... will you please fuck me? I need it,” he muttered, not making eye contact. Peter, realizing that this was probably the best he was going to get, stood and scooped his boy up, setting a course for the bedroom. Stiles giggled delightedly, wiggling a little just to make Peter growl and hold him tighter.

“Little boy, if you don't stop moving I'm going to ruin that perky little ass of yours,” he growled, even though it had little to no effect on the kid. The little slut probably wanted to be in pain, he was a kinky fucker after all. They finally reached the bedroom, and Peter practically threw his lover onto their bed. Stiles bounced a little, surprised, before reclining and smiling at Peter.

“That was a fun ride, daddy, but I think I'm looking for something a little... rougher.”

Peter smiled, grabbing Stiles' shirt and ripping it down the middle. The kid started to protest, but Peter's sudden licking and biting at his chest shut him up. He moaned when Peter bit down particularly hard, and it took the older man a few minutes to realize that the twink had already taken off his pants. Stiles looked up at him, obviously expecting him to do the same, but Peter just smiled and undid his zipper. This wasn't going to be worth getting fully undressed.

“Flip over, babe,” he muttered, “or you're not getting anything to lube up your pussy. It's probably wet enough on its own, right?” Stiles flipped over, hiking his ass up and shaking his head.

“No, daddy,” he whined, “Please be gentle with me....” Peter rolled his eyes. Didn't the kid JUST say that he wanted it rough? If he was gonna be kinky, he had to be able to go through with the shit he talked about. The hardest part of sex with Stiles was deciding whether being rough like he wanted was worth the silent treatment and pouting he'd get for it later. Realistically, though, it was the damn kid's fault for hooking up with a villain in the first place.

With that in mind, Peter decided to do what he did best; whatever he wanted. He stabbed two fingers into Stiles' ass, scissoring them quickly as Stiles whined. Foreplay was nice, of course, but Peter was ready for the main event, whether or not Stiles thought he was.

He quickly spread some lube on his hard dick, figuring that any blood he had to clean off of it would be an inconvenience to him as well, and sank into Stiles. The kid let out a dry sob, but Peter was too busy thrusting to check and see if the boy was alright.

“There ya go,” he murmured under his breath, “bet that feels better. You were just freaking out without something hard in your slutty hole, weren't you? It's okay, daddy's gonna make it allll better.” There were actual tears running down Stiles' face now, but Peter figured that if the kid wasn't yelling at him or otherwise trying to get him to stop they were probably tears of pleasure. He was a fantastic lover, after all.

“Daddy, please,” Stiles moaned, “wanna cum...”

Peter saw red. If the little slut wanted to come so badly, he should probably teach himself to do it on his owner's cock, shouldn't he? He told Stiles as much, trying not to laugh as the kid shook his head fervently. He looked a little bit like a bobblehead when he did that.

“But.... But Peter...” he started, but Peter had already finished. After all, nothing was sexier to him than watching the little twink cry and still not get what he wanted. He thrusted shallowly into the boy as he filled him with his seed, listening to Stiles complain.

“Jesus, you little bitch, fine,” he rolled his eyes. He reached a hand down and jerked Stiles a couple of times, snorting a little when the kid came after three strokes. “Feel better now?”

Stiles nodded and turned over, smiling up at Peter with love in his eyes. Peter had never wanted to own something as much as he wanted to own Stiles in that very moment. He wanted to tie him up, lock him in a basement, and keep him there until he forgot everything but the scent of Peter's sweat and the sound of his voice. He sucked it up, though, if only to keep the kid's sass alive, and laid on his back so that Stiles could drape himself over his chest.

The funny thing was, the urge to own Stiles completely left him when he looked at the sleeping twink's face.

 

 


	6. June

Shit kind of hit the fan when the article about his mass grave came out. “Kind of” meant that Peter had to sleep on the couch until Stiles came to terms with his murder. “Came to terms with” meant that Peter guilt tripped Stiles into feeling shitty for even thinking about judging him.

Honestly, the fact that Stiles was upset about murder when he was ALSO A FREAKING SUPER VILLAIN was a little ridiculous. So what if Peter had killed a lot more people than Stiles thought? People did bad shit all the time.

Peter knew, though, that if he was going to convince Stiles to love him he'd have to convince him that he was forgiving Peter of his own volition. The one thing about the stubborn twink was that even though he was very easy to manipulate, he was very sensitive about being manipulated. If Peter put ideas and feelings into his head that weren't already there, and the little twink found out? The kid would have a fit and stop talking to him until the older male asserted his dominance once again. Relationships were a fucking hassle.

After he convinced Stiles that he wasn't mad anymore, though, the kid's blog post kind of surprised him. Sure he'd been steadily breaking down all of the boy's defenses and emotions, but it still seemed like a fast transition from “I will never date anyone who kills people ever” to “eh... it's just a dead body.” Peter loved that Stiles was starting to fall for him, stuff like this was only physical evidence that his strong (and sometimes creepy, he would admit) feelings were returned.

Sure, Peter could be mean to him. He was mean to everyone he cared about, even when he was a kid he was horrifically sarcastic to his family members and closest friends. He got mad fast, and tended to lash out when he couldn't rely on words to express how he was feeling. Maybe he lashed out at Stiles sometimes (maybe more than he'd like to admit), but he genuinely cared about the kid. It terrified him because it meant that he wouldn't be able to sacrifice the boy for his own gain if he needed to. Once Peter got possessive of things, he would put his life down to save them, and the idea that his life was based on a fickle human was one of the scariest things he had ever thought of. It kept him up sometimes, which of course didn't help because it was just him staring at a sleeping Stiles and thinking more and more about how much he might not actually mind the kid's company.

Who said obsession didn't affect both parties involved?

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If there was one thing Peter fucking hated, it was Stiles' group of friends. It wasn't even just because he wanted to be able to monopolize all of the kid's time, the people he liked to hang out with were just fucking ANNOYING. Always “Let's hang out, Stiles,” this, and “Come on, ditch the old man, let's go get drinks and flirt with people,” that. Luckily his Stiles knew better than to take any of them up on their offers, but the fact that they dared to offer in the first place filled Peter with rage. Maybe they wouldn't expect Peter to monitor all of Stiles' texts and calls, but was it really necessary to talk shit about someone's boyfriend RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM? What had he even done to the dumbasses, anyways, besides show the normal amount of possession that a regular boyfriend would?

Maybe it was the fact that Peter couldn't handle loud people. Maybe he should have known, given that they were all friends with Stiles, but his friends were loud as hell all the damn time. And they always wanted to go to loud places. Concerts, dance clubs, roller skating rinks, Peter could never get a second of fucking peace when hanging out with Stiles' group. In addition, they weren't ever very nice to his Stiles. Peter understood that the group survived on sarcasm, Stiles couldn't go two seconds without making a sassy remark after all, but the jokes in their group seemed oddly mean and biting. Peter was fairly sure that the kid who perpetually wore scarves (Irving? Isiah? Who the fuck knew) didn't even enjoy spending time with Stiles, which made Peter see red. The fact that these brats took his boy's time away from him and then didn't even enjoy it to the extent that Peter himself would was ridiculous. How could anyone not fully appreciate the gift of his boyfriend's time?

Peter wasn't creepy, honestly. He was aware that it was pretty much abusive relationship 101 to separate your significant other from his friends, but he wouldn't have a problem if Stiles had better friends in the first place. Maybe people that were quieter, that were okay with just hanging out at someone's house and watching movies. Maybe even people that understood that Peter would do literally anything for his twink? He wasn't super into tooting his own horn, to speak, but he was a pretty damn good boyfriend if he did say so himself. Sure, he lied to Stiles sometimes, and tended to have a quick temper, and was slowly pressuring the boy into doing worse and worse crimes, but he was only doing it for the kid's own safety and future happiness.

There was no way he could bring this shit up to Stiles, though. The kid would get immediately pissed, maybe even stop talking to Peter, and that was completely unacceptable. Peter really thought it was a little unfair, if he had friends that Stiles didn't immediately approve of he would drop them without a second thought. To be fair, he didn't really form connections like a normal person, but even if Stiles immediately fell (PLATONICALLY) in love with everyone he met, shouldn't the fact that he was dating Peter mean something? For god's sake, the kid refused to even see his friends less often in favor of hanging out with Peter!

Really, was it Peter's fault that he wanted to spend more time with his significant other? He figured that if he wanted something, he should probably take it, though he realized that he was going to have to be discreet if he wanted to keep Stiles' trust. He smirked as his twink walked into their living room, having returned from another hangout with his friends (laser tag or something? Because he was dating an actual twelve year old). He officially had a plan, and if he had his way Stiles would be none the wiser, even when Peter was the only friend he had left.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter wanted to make up with Stiles, he really did, but he was a little afraid that if he looked at the tiny twink's face right now he'd smash it into a wall. He didn't really want to hurt Stiles, even though the boy made him so furious he seriously contemplated punching some holes in a wall to get his pure unadulterated rage out.

The smaller male didn't want to kill civilians. He could understand that, hell, he had felt the same way when he first started his crime spree with a few counts of petty theft. The one difference between him and the little brat, though? He grew the fuck up. He could understand that sometimes people fucking needed to die, and if they didn't they would compromise the safety of those you loved more than anything. Peter loved Stiles more than anything, and he'd be more than glad to slaughter a million people if it meant keeping his love safe and happy (even if the boy thought he was going to be happy if he escaped Peter, the older man knew best when it came to his twink).

He had already gotten Stiles to the point that he didn't mind if Peter killed a couple (or twenty, who was counting) innocents during a heist, which was good. It was a lot easier than when Stiles was still on his high horse about how people's lives matter and murder should be avoided as much as possible, but Peter really wanted a physical sign of the younger boy's love for him. Was it really a crime for him to want the boy to kill a couple of people in order to prove his devotion to his one true love??? Well... it was kind of illegal, but that was besides the point.

The thing that possibly made Peter the angriest was the fact that the twink didn't even act like he did anything wrong! All he needed to do was kill one fucking person, not even in an exceptionally bloody or painful way, and then they could've gone home and cuddled and had sex until they passed out. But NOOOO, the kid had to throw the tantrum to end all tantrums, storm out and almost ruin the entire fucking job, and sulk all the way home.

…...Well.... Peter wasn't entirely sure that he did sulk the entire way, given that he left without the kid and returned home well before the twink did, but the child was upset enough when he did arrive that Peter didn't need a whole lot of help to fill in the blanks. Peter was actually in the middle of one of his favorite shows when Stiles stormed in, so admittedly he was more than a little distracted when the smaller male got into a fighting stance and stated that they needed to talk.

Yell was more at it, because Stiles immediately went on the offensive. He was all “How could you,” this, and “what the fuck,” that, and maybe Peter could have handled it a little better? But he was just so fucking tired and honestly more than a little done with Stiles' shitty attitude so he turned partially away and shrugged at the smaller male, staying silent.

Apparently, Stiles really fucking hated it when he thought that people were ignoring him. He immediately began to scream at Peter, throwing obscenities around like some kind of idiotic reality star.

“Peter, what the FUCK was that?” He yelled, stomping his foot like a toddler.

“Stiles, what the fuck do you want me to say?” Peter yawned, “I told you what I wanted from you and you failed to do it. Honestly, you have no right to even be upset with me. Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you?”

Stiles' eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth silently for a few seconds. “Dis... disappointed? Are you fucking kidding me! I'm soooo fucking sorry that I didn't fucking KILL SOMEONE just because you fucking told me to! Sorry I have a fucking respect for human lives! Sorry that you're a goddamn monster that can't fucking empathize with human beings anymore!”

That was honestly the last straw for Peter. Stiles wanted a fight? He would give him a fucking fight.

“I do apologize, I forgot that the mighty Stiles can do no wrong. I forgot that it was you that has been evading the police, you that has been providing food and clothes and fucking computer games for this household. I forgot that I'm the annoying little bitch that needs to blog about my feelings all the damn time and you're the big strong man that fucks me whenever I want it but also still leaves time to talk about our goddamn FEELINGS! I forgot that I'm the one that owes YOU something, that you're the only one that will ever love me. I forgot that I'm fucking LUCKY that you'll even have a conversation with me because I'm so fucking annoying, but you love me so much that you'll put up with it!”

Stiles' mouth dropped open as his eyes started to water. Peter immediately felt bad for blowing up at the younger, but honestly it was a long time coming. At least he hadn't hit the boy? He was angry enough that he could easily imagine himself taking a swing at his twink, no matter how much he currently adored him.

“I, um...” Stiles' voice shook and he paused, trying to compose himself. “I didn't know that you felt that way. I guess I could... leave? If you want me to.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. Honestly, he didn't want to turn this into a fight, but the fact that Stiles was so ungrateful even after everything Peter had done for him made him enraged.

“Look, Stiles,” he said, knowing that using the kid's name instead of a nickname would make the teen feel even worse, “Maybe it's better if you sleep on the couch for a while. I need some time to calm down, and I think I need to be away from you for a little while before I put my fist through a wall.”

Peter quickly left the room and laid down on his bed, falling asleep to the sounds of Stiles' quiet sobbing in the next room.

 


	7. July

The thing about the fight was that the more Peter thought about it, the angrier he got. At first he thought that he had understood where Stiles was coming from, but the more nights he spent sleeping alone the more he realized that the kid was being ridiculous. And the fact that he hadn't thrown himself at Peter's feet begging for mercy? Insane.

Maybe it was the fact that Peter didn't really understand what was going on in the kid's head. He could smell most of his emotions, he knew that his twink was upset with how their relationship was going, but the kid wouldn't fucking apologize! Peter could hear him typing away at his blog all the damn time, complaining about him and breaking their rule (that he would let Peter edit all of his posts, in order to ensure the SAFETY of the relationship), and he bore it all in silence until one day he snapped. He grabbed all of his shit in a bag, stormed out of his room, and left their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Of course, he didn't really leave. He needed Stiles to think that he left, in order to goad the twink into doing something for once in his life, but he still wanted to be around so that he could keep the boy safe. So he pretended to leave, found a place to stash his shit for a little while, and snuck back into the house periodically to check up on his boy and eat some food. He even managed to sleep there most nights, out of sight of his boyfriend, which was honestly a little concerning. The kid wrote in his blog about hearing creaking noises at night, but he never bothered to check?

A few days into Peter's absence, Stiles... changed. He started cleaning like a madman, refusing to eat, sleep, or even sit down until every part of the house was spotless. He only ever stopped to check his phone, presumably to see if Peter had tried to contact him. The older male probably should have come back immediately after he realized that this was happening, but he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was a bad person. He was perfectly willing to wait and see how this shit progressed.

And progress it did. Stiles started teaching himself how to cook, throwing away meal after meal until he managed to make something perfect. He cleaned parts of the house two or three times until the sparkled, then cleaned them again. Peter watched him from various nooks and crannies around the house, cramped but impressed. If this was Stiles after a few days, what would a few months without Peter do to him?

The man didn't want to chance it, though, and honestly he was really starting to miss being able to cuddle and kiss on the smaller male. Sure, the kid had never actually apologized, but Peter figured that at this point it was more out of feeling like he wasn't allowed to than feeling like he was right. Reading his last blog post cemented it. If Stiles was willing to take time to write about how much he loved and missed Peter, then Peter was willing to come home and let him apologize.

As soon as the older male stepped through the door, he had an armful of sobbing, apologizing Stiles. He stumbled back a little before readjusting his grip, trying to stop himself from laughing as the kid buried his face in Peter's neck and sobbed. Sure, this was a super touching and romantic moment, but the boy was being just a little ridiculous. Was Peter worth all of this crying? Even with his massively inflated ego, he knew that the answer was no.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he shushed, patting Stiles' back, “You have to calm down, okay? Caaaalm down, I'm here, everything's alright.”

Stiles tried to unsuccessfully stop his tears, “B-b-but I though you were GONE, you left and then you didn't come back and I tried to be so good for you and it was really hard but I worked every day and you still never came back but I never gave up on you because I love you so much and I'll never do anything to push you like that again and I'm sorry and you were right and I love you and can we please go to sleep now because I haven't gotten any sleep since you left and I'm really tired but we don't have to if you don't want to because I love you Peter.”

Peter blinked for a couple of seconds, trying to sort out everything that the kid had blabbered on about. He thought briefly about yelling at Stiles for talking so damn much when he had literally just walked through the door, but he figured that he could cut the obviously distraught twink some slack. A nap actually sounded pretty great anyway, trying to sleep on the couch while still being aware of any noises indicating that Stiles was up was difficult as hell.

“Don't even worry about it baby,” he purred, fully picking the kid up and tucking the younger's head under his chin, “Daddy's home now, let's go to bed.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Although punishing Stiles by leaving obviously did work, Peter knew that rewarding the kid would get him to do what Peter wanted even faster. He knew exactly what Stiles liked, so he crafted an entire day full of the younger man's favorite things. In addition to watching about fifty superhero movies and playing what felt like thousands of board games, he bought something for the boy that was as much a present for him as it was for the twink. Before he let the kid open it he stressed that this was a reward that could only be brought on by good behavior, and he sat back and let the kid open it.

Stiles' face immediately turned bright red as soon as he opened the package. For all of the bragging that the kid did about being cool with sexual shit, he certainly broke the fuck down every time Peter tried to do something new. His blush spread down his neck as he held up the attachable dildo for the fucking machine that his loving boyfriend bought for him.

“P... Peter, this is...” he trailed off, turning the small machine around and looking at all of the different settings.

“Do you like it?” The larger male asked. “I know it's small, but I have been assured that it'll fuck you just as well as any other machine could. I spent a lot of money on it, though, so I think you need to show a little more appreciation for your amazing mate.”

Stiles smiled, finally looking up at Peter. “I love it, daddy, I promise, but... do you think it'll hurt? It looks kinda scary...”

Peter chuckled and wrapped an arm around Stiles, pulling him into his side. His hand slid up the younger's shirt, brushing quickly over his flat stomach before traveling upwards to tweak a nipple roughly. Stiles moaned and shifted, opening his legs and giving Peter a lot more room to work with. The older man stood up, scooping Stiles off of the couch and grabbing the machine with his free hand.

“I think we're gonna have some time to try it out and see,” he muttered, deciding to kiss Stiles and open the younger's mouth with his tongue. The twink giggled and wrapped his legs around his boyfriend, kissing back as he was carried into their bedroom. Normally, Peter wouldn't care about where they had sex, but for this he thought it might be easier to work with the machine on a flat surface.

Besides, they would have tons of time to use it all over the house later.

Peter flopped Stiles down onto the bed, smirking a little when the kid immediately began taking all of his clothes off. He put the machine down on the bed, grabbing for the lube and pushing his twink onto his stomach. Stiles immediately put his head down on the bed and propped his ass up in the air.

“Good boy,” Peter muttered, stroking his lower back, “Daddy loves it when you give him easy access to your slutty pussy.” Stiles moaned and squirmed a little bit when Peter's lubed up fingers prodded at his hole. No doubt it was cold, but Peter had no doubt that it'd warm up in a few minutes. He slipped the first finger in, moving it slowly in and out and twisting it around. Stiles moaned again, only stopping his movements when Peter spanked him with his clean hand.

“Now now, bitch,” he spoke while slipping in his second finger, “Don't make this hard for Daddy or he might just give up on keeping you satisfied and take care of himself in the bathroom.”

It was a completely empty threat, given that Peter could never leave Stiles hanging once he had the slut begging in his bed, but the younger didn't know that if his sad moans and immediate stillness were anything to go by.

“I'm sorry, Daddy, “ he sobbed, “Please give me more.” Peter smirked and started moving his hand faster and faster, fucking his fingers in and out of Stiles at a brutal pace. Once he was sure that the kid was stretched enough (or, at least, as much as he was willing to sit there and stretch him), he back up and started to lube up the dildo.

“Now, sweetheart, I'm going to need you to relax like a good whore, okay?” He asked the twink, “Even if this hurts a little bit, you're going to need to bear with it. It'll probably feel great to a stretched cunt like yours soon enough anyway.”

Stiles sobbed with humiliation, but didn't so much as twitch away from the dildo now insistently pushing at his hole. Peter smiled as he pushed it in and out a few times. He was being fairly nice today, allowing his boyfriend to adjust to the intrusion before he started the machine up.

His “niceness” ended when he finally connected the dildo to the machine and started it up. He thought about starting at the lowest level and slowly working Stiles up, but decided that his mate had had enough prepping. He cranked the dial all the way to the highest setting, listening to Stiles' screams as he slowly took his own dick out of his pants.

“D-d-daaa-” Stiles trailed off, shaking with the force of the small machine's thrusts. Peter took joy in the fact that his dick was red and throbbing. It delighted the older man that he was capable of bringing the twink to such a desperate state without even touching his ass himself. He stroked his own dick, deciding that if Stiles couldn't cum on the machine he wouldn't be cumming at all tonight. He didn't need to worry about the kid, though, less that a minute later Stiles came with a high- pitched scream, pushing Peter over the edge as well. He let the kid suffer on the end of the ruthless machine while he milked the last of his orgasm, getting up to turn it off when Stiles' moans seemed more from pain than pleasure.

Peter turned the machine off, putting it on the ground to be cleaned later, before collapsing on the bed and hugging his boyfriend to his chest. The smaller male turned over and laid his head on Peter, snuggling in and smiling sleepily.

“Thanks for the gift Daddy,” he whispered softly, “you're the best....”

Peter fell asleep with a wide smile on his face.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since Stiles had started college, Peter wanted him to quit. It wasn't that he didn't want the kid to be smart or anything like that, but the smaller male didn't actually _need_ to go. He was already plenty intelligent, years of more than excelling at school had proven that, and college wasn't really for learning anyway. It was for making friendships, debating and forming your own opinions, and helping to groom yourself so that when your four years were up, you'd be prepared to waltz right into the working world and become a productive member of society.

Now THAT was the part that Peter had a problem with.

Stiles didn't need a job, or friends, or anything that would bring his focus away from Peter! He was the one that loved the smaller male, and he'd be damned if he let ancient professors and expensive textbooks seduce his lover away from him. He'd decided even before he'd started dating the smaller male that he would put an end to the kid's schooling, but he'd figured that he should wait until Stiles had at least finished his first semester.

And today was that day. Stiles had been gone most of the day taking his final, but as soon as he walked in the door Peter led him to the couch and sat him down. He stayed standing in front of him, and was a little surprised at the joy he felt when he noticed how nervous his significant other was. Was the smaller male scared of him? Too much fear would have soured his scent, but the small amount of tension rolling off of the twink was like the most expensive wine in the world.

“Stiles,” Peter started, pretending to be sad that he was giving this news, “I'm afraid that we're going to have to talk about your college career.”

Stiles stuttered a bit, “I-is there something wrong? I'm pretty sure that I passed my final, if that's what you mean?”

Peter chuckled. “No, sweetheart, I'm not worried about what grade you got. You know full well that I would love you whether you aced or failed it, but I'm afraid that there's a different problem.” When Stiles leaned in a little closer, Peter continued, “I am very sorry to say this, but I don't think that you will be able to continue on in your studies. I've thought about this for a long time, and I can't really figure any way that this will work.”

Stiles stood up, rage flashing across his face before he schooled it into mild annoyance, “What the fuck? Peter, where the fuck is this coming from? I know for a fact that we have the money, and this makes me happy! Why would you try and take that away from me?”

“Pet, I'm not doing this to try and make you angry,” Peter attempted to sooth. When Stiles remained agitated, he took it a step further. “Don't you think you're being selfish about this? Yes, maybe we have the money, but are you really okay with using it all on yourself? We could be spending money on food, or dates, or more fun things for both of us to enjoy, would you really rather take all of it to spend on some classes that you're never going to use again? We're villains, Stiles, we don't need to learn about microbiology and U.S. History.”

Stiles' face went red, and he looked like he was holding back tears. Peter wanted to sooth him, but he had to be tough if he was going to convince the twink to stay home with him. “But... Peter, I don't want to be a villain for the rest of my life! I want to learn how to do something for myself, I want to be able to tell people what I do without having to kill them afterwards, I want to be able to walk past a cop on the street without feeling like he could shoot me in the face in the next minute!” A few tears slipped down the smaller male's face. “I... I want my dad to be proud of me,” he muttered, just about breaking Peter's heart. The older man stepped forward, hugging Stiles and crushing him into his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured soothingly, rubbing his boyfriend's back, “Of course your dad will be proud of you, no matter what you do! Do you really think that your father would be capable of being angry with you, even if you became a 'monster' like you're afraid of?” Stiles sniffed, thinking.

“I guess... not?” He questioned, “my dad always pushed family stuff. Do you think that he'd be proud of me no matter what, because I'm his son?” Peter smiled, kissing Stiles gently.

“Absolutely,” he purred, watching as Stiles' smile lit up his face. “I think that your dad is looking down on you right now, thinking about nothing but how much he loves you. I also think that he knows that this decision is best for both of us, don't you agree.”

Stiles hugged Peter back firmly, seemingly convinced. “I do... do you think that maybe in the future if we can afford it and we're both in a good place in our lives, I could go back and get a degree? Just so that I can prove to myself that I can do it....”

Peter smiled, picking his twink up and speaking over his squeals of happiness, “Of course you can, darling,” he said, meaning absolutely none of it.

 


End file.
